Page 18 of Bad Summer People
Robert Heyworth had just had sex with a married woman, a paying client at his very new, very lucrative job. So, that had been a stupid move on his part. But also: inevitable. Lauren wanted him and he wanted her, and they both knew it. No one to blame. And it had been good. And he’d do it again.
Robert had spent the morning of July 4 teaching lessons, starting at 9:00 a.m. First, he’d had the Longeran brats, Milly and Milo, eight and nine, who’d tortured him the entire time. “Robert is a big, fat poop. Robert is a big, fat poop!” they’d chanted, ignoring his calls to hit, follow through, and pick up balls. Their parents, as usual, were nowhere in sight. Then at 10:00, he’d done a 30-minute doubles strategy session with Rachel Woolf and Emily Grobel, who were gunning to win the women’s tournament this year (it probably wasn’t going to happen, but he’d certainly accept their money to try to help them). At 10:30, he’d had Larry Higgins for an hour. He liked teaching Larry because Larry didn’t give a shit. He just enjoyed playing and wanted to keep improving, ever so slightly, into his old age. He hobbled around the court because of an old skiing injury, but he had a great time doing so, cracking jokes with Robert in between points. Afterward, they’d sat on the bench and chatted for a bit.
“So, how are you liking the gig? Is your house okay?” Larry had asked, wiping his face with a towel.
“I’m liking it a lot,” said Robert, which was true. “And the house is great,” he continued, which wasn’t.
“You’re shitting me,” said Larry, chuckling. “The house is a dump.”
Robert laughed. There was something about Larry that reminded Robert of his dad. An endearing, no-BS quality.
“Yeah, it’s not perfect. But it comes with the job, and I’m happy to be living there. I just need to figure out how to get rid of all the ants.”
“I can have Pete, the exterminator, come by. Don’t worry about it.” Everyone who worked in this town—who didn’t have a house of their own and came in on the ferry to do their job—went by one name. Pete the exterminator. John the bike guy. Anthony the contractor. Luigi the plumber (yes, the plumber was really named Luigi).
“Thanks, Larry, I’d appreciate that. But otherwise, things are good. My schedule is booked up—I barely have time to grab lunch—and people are generally nice. Much nicer than other places I’ve worked.”
“Oh, everyone here is a lunatic. We both know that,” said Larry.
Robert laughed again. On cue, Susan Steinhagen marched over from the other court. Larry caught Robert’s eye and made a grimacing face.
“Hello, Larry. Hello, Robert. Just the two people I need to speak to.” Her voice was two levels too loud, as always.
“What can we do for you, Susan?” Larry said politely.
“I’m going to need both of your help in putting together the tournament draws. It’s becoming a bigger and bigger job each year, and I need some additional support. Larry, you’re on the tennis committee, so I’ll deputize you to handle the sign-ups, and Robert, you can handle administrative tasks, like alerting people to their game times. I’ll still be seeding the players.”
“Oh, of course you will be,” said Larry with a quick wink at Robert.
Susan clocked it. “Larry, this is serious business. You know how out of control people get about these tournaments.”
Robert could imagine. For a town filled with mediocre tennis players, they all took themselves very seriously.
“I’m happy to help,” said Robert. “Just let me know the best way to go about it.”
Susan nodded. “I’m also going to loop in Rachel Woolf, as she knowsthe women players the best,” she said. “Though I’ll absolutely not allow her to influence who ends up playing whom.”
“Oh, no, you could never,” said Larry, continuing to goad her.
She shook her head at him. “Larry Higgins, you can expect my instructions imminently.” Then she’d turned and walked back to her game of elderly women.
“Yes, sir!” Larry yelled after her, chuckling. “What a piece of work,” he said to Robert when she was out of earshot. Robert feared Susan, particularly after she’d seen him and Lauren standing so closely on the court, and he enjoyed hearing Larry take the piss out of her.
“You never finished telling me that story about the former pro, Dave. You said Susan thought he might have been stealing from the club.”
“Oh, yeah, the alcohol thing was a cover for her,” said Larry. He picked up his racket and walked off the courts toward the club. Robert followed, nodding hello at Sam Weinstein as he went, stretching in preparation for his noon game. Robert had a break now until 2:00 p.m.
“Apparently, she’d noticed that lessons weren’t getting charged correctly. Or, rather, they’d be charged twice. Dave had said it was a clerical error, but something was definitely fishy.”
How stupid of that guy,Robert thought. After just a couple of weeks on the job, he could see a much easier way of stealing. All you’d have to do was not “officially” enter a lesson into the ledger and charge the member’s card to a different account from the club’s. No one checked who was on the court and when. He was the only one keeping track of it. Why hadn’t Dave just done it that way? Maybe alcohol had scrambled his brain.
Robert had two hours to kill, so he walked over to the firehouse, where hot dogs and beer were being served, and the volunteer firefighters were all dressed up in their uniforms. They looked ridiculous, like grown men wearing Halloween costumes. There was Brian, snapping his suspenders. Robert saw Brian’s wife, Lisa, standing with Emily. They were dressed like twins in white jumpsuits. Robert was confused by the women in Salcombe, and he’d never been confused by women before. Did they like one another or not? He always heard them gossiping, talking about whose kid was misbehaving and whose tennis game wasn’t as good as she thoughtit was. Henrietta, Larry’s wife, didn’t invite Claire to her dinner thing; Emily thought she could find a better doubles partner than Rachel; Lauren was vain. But on the flip side, they were all inseparable. They had drinks every night, they spent hours all together at the beach, they sat and watched their kids play corkball at the field in the afternoons. Like Lisa and Emily, they dressed identically in designer brands. He’d never worked—or lived, for that matter—in such a small community. He could see how you could get easily sucked in.
He spotted Lauren in the crowd, wearing a flowy, floral dress. The straps of a pink bikini were peeking out of the top. Against his will, Robert felt himself get momentarily hard.Pull it together, you idiot,he thought.
Claire Laurell walked up to him, taking the last bites of a hot dog. Instant erection killer.Thank you, Claire.
“Robert! How’s everything? You’re still here, so I suppose we Salcombians haven’t scared you off quite yet.”
